


Eliminating Threats

by queenofchildren



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, canon divergent after 2x08, lots of fluff later, lots of violence at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofchildren/pseuds/queenofchildren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After freeing the 47 from Mount Weather, the remaining 100 start over at a new camp. But despite a truce with the grounders, life is not always peaceful. When Clarke is attacked by one of the delinquents, Bellamy has to admit what his co-leader really means to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fearless

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Clarke had known something like this would happen eventually. After all, their camp had started out with a hundred delinquents, and for every harmless Jasper or Monty, there was a dangerous criminal down here, and many of the teenagers had followed them from Camp Jaha in anticipation of free rein. They had seen a little of what that could entail during those first chaotic days, before the threat of banishment had scared most teens into submission. But fights still tended to break out left and right and quickly spiralled out of control, and every other day, she had broken noses and bruised knuckles to attend to. And then there were the really violent ones, the sadists and choleric abusers who took out their own frustrations on the weaker members of the group.

At least, that was the most obvious explanation for the scene Clarke had just stumbled upon. She had gone to check on a girl who had been to see her earlier in the day complaining of stomach cramps. Entering the girl's tent, tucked away in a quiet corner at the far end of camp, she found her patient on the floor, protectively curled in on herself while a tall, burly guy stood bent over her, trying to pry her hands away from her face.

“Look at me when I'm speaking to you, bitch!“

Clarke dropped the thermos of herbal infusion she was holding and flew forward to grab hold of the boy's arm, which was swinging backwards for a punch.

“What the hell is going on here? Leave her alone!“

“That's none of your business. Fuck off.“ Shaking off her hands, he pushed her away. 

“It is my business if you decide to beat up younger kids. What happened here?“

The boy, whose name she thought might be Teake, straightened up and took a step towards her, drawing himself to his full height to tower over her menacingly.

“I said that's none of your business. So you better get out before you catch my fist too.“

Considering how pitifully inferior she was to him in terms of physical strength, Clarke knew she should do exactly that: Get out of here and return with reenforcements. But then her eyes fell on the girl on the floor, still in her protective fetal position, tears trailing through the blood and dirt on her face. She could not leave that girl alone for even a second. Who knew how much more damage this brute would do to her in the meantime.

Clarke figured that if she couldn't get out to get help, she could at least try yelling, but she came as far as “Hel...“ before he was before her, his hand clasping her throat to cut her off. With his other hand holding her upper arm in a vise grip, he shook her like a rag doll. When he finally stopped and loosened his grip on her neck, she drew in big, heaving breaths of air, her lungs aflame, black spots dancing in front of her vision. Her throat hurt, and it was clear that calling for help was not an option anymore. She'd have to draw his attention away from his victim and hope that someone outside heard the commotion and decided to intervene.

“Shut your fucking mouth, unless you want me to beat you black and blue.“ He let go of her, clearly certain that he had successfully subdued her, and she stumbled backwards, desperately gulping in air through her burning throat.

“Do it. Hit me. But you can't beat up everyone at camp. Word of this will get out, and we'll see how long it takes for the others to decide if they'll tolerate you.“ Her voice was hoarse and shaky, barely above a whisper, with every word hurting in her bruised throat, but Clarke was determined not to give in. She did not feel a smidge of fear anymore, only red, raging fury.

“Are you threatening me?“

“Yes.“ _Brutal and stupid,_ Clarke thought to herself, _what a charming combination_. The guy's victim was still cowering behind Teake, hugging her trembling frame. Clarke felt pity for the girl, but it would be so much more helpful if she used her attacker's distraction to slip away and get help. Frankly, Clarke didn't trust the asshole not to hit her anyway just out of spite, and by the time her voice recovered or his yelling drew anyone's attention, who knew how much damage he could do.

“Not to mention what happens when Bellamy hears of this. I don't think he approves of big guys hitting little girls.“ It was a more than valid threat, although she hated having to hide behind the spectre of her co-leader's wrath – she'd prefer to defend herself. But she'd let herself be lulled into a sense of security after they reached peace with the grounders, and stopped carrying a knife at all times. Now, looking at her towering opponent, she deeply regretted that lack of caution. At least the girl finally seemed to have picked up on the hint and crawled out of the tent as quietly as possible. When Clarke concentrated on her opponent again, there was an ugly sneer on his face.

“So that's your plan? You're hoping King Bellamy will come and rescue you?“

“I'm just saying, if someone were to imply you would hurt his sister, he'd get pretty angry.“

That got him thinking. She could actually see the process take place, a flicker of nervousness hushing over his face before he masked it with overconfident swagger.

“Bellamy won't always be there to watch out for you, Princess. Maybe one day he'll be out on a hunting trip and you'll have a fatal accident.“ He stepped closer, clearly trying to intimidate her, and Clarke smirked. Oh, she had played this game before, and with more dangerous opponents. She thought she had Teake figured out pretty well by assuming he liked his victims scared and helpless, not defiant and ready to fight. She took two steps in his direction, standing directly before him and looking him straight in the eyes as she said, in her coldest tone:

“Maybe. Or maybe one day you'll come to me sick or injured and I'll accidentally give you the wrong medication. The plants here all look alike, even the poisonous...“

She didn't get to finish the sentence before his fist crashed into her face. The force of the blow knocked her backwards into the tarpaulin, her knees buckling. You idiot should have run when you had the chance, she berated herself as the back of her head hit the hard floor with a painful thud. The next moment he was straddling her, his hands on her throat again, and the maniacal fever on his face told Clarke that she had immensely misjudged the situation. This guy wasn't just into beating up little girls, he was very well able to kill someone, and right now, he was about to kill her.

Being strangled by a crazy teenager after surviving a drop from space, grounder warfare, acid fog and a jump off a dam, among other things, was bordering on the absurd, and Clarke would not have it. She was not going to go down without a fight and prove him right that she should have stayed out of his business of beating up little kids.

Scrambling around for something, anything, to help her defend herself, her hands came upon something smooth, cold and cylindrical – the thermos. Trying to get a good grip on the sleek surface even though her hands were slippery with sweat, she brought the metal container up and bashed it against the side of Teake's head with as much force as she could muster. He swayed over her, his forehead almost crashing into her nose, and she hit him twice more until he collapsed heavily onto her, blacked out.

For several long seconds she just lay there, trying to gulp in as much air as she could, but his dead weight on her ribcage made that incredibly difficult. She scrambled to push him off enough to be able to breathe and then let her head drop back down, exhausted. The pain in her head was building up in excruciating waves, and she wondered idly if she had a concussion. Nausea overcame her and the black spots were back again, so she closed her eyes, just for a moment.


	2. Stupid

That was how Bellamy found her when he burst into the tent, her eyes closed and an unconscious, bleeding Teake draped over her legs.

“Clarke! Float it, what the hell happened here? Clarke!“

Clarke could feel someone beside her, shaking her shoulder, but she had been resting so nicely, and all this shaking made her head hurt again. She lifted her hand weakly to swat him away, and felt it enveloped by another person's hand, warm against her own clammy skin.

“Clarke, say something, for fuck's sake! Are you injured? What did he do to you?“

She sighed and opened her eyes to assure him that she was not dead. “Stop yelling. It's fine, I knocked him out.“

“I can see that, but what did he do to you?“ He dropped her hand to cup her face and study her intently, which in her hazy state she found hilarious.

“You look like you're going to kiss me.“

“Stop rambling“, he growled and gently pulled her eyes further open, presumably to check her pupils the way she had shown him a while back.

“Well that's not romantic.“

“Nothing about this is romantic.“ He immediately contradicted this statement by cradling her to his chest and lifting her up with a gentleness that belied his gruff tone.

When they exited the tent, a crowd of people had congregated before it, all staring at them curiously and trying to peek inside the tent behind her.

“Monroe, Bartlett, get Teake out of there and tie him up outside the gate. Guard him, but no matter what he says, don't let him go. I'll deal with him later.“

Then he strode off towards the med bay and she leaned her head against his shoulder to keep it from lolling about. A few people disconnected from the group to walk along with them, and she could make out Octavia's voice as her eyes drifted shut again, asking a series of worried questions before saying something about getting the med bay ready.

“Don't fall asleep, princess. Don't even think about it.“

Damn, he must have noticed her closing her eyes. But the bright light was hurting her head and the sight of the camp bobbing up and down around her made her feel nauseous. She was distracted from her jumbled thoughts by the sensation of him pressing the softest of kisses to her forehead, and she couldn't help but smile and open her eyes.

“Alright, I'll try. Since you asked so nicely.“

He chuckled. “You're telling me, after months of discussions, that asking nicely is all it takes for you to do as I say?“

“Mhm. It's a nice change from being barked at.“

“Well, then I'm asking you nicely never to scare me like that again.“

Before she had a chance to reply, they reached the med bay set up in the hut next to hers and he set her down on the operating table, taking off his jacket and folding it up to place under her head as a pillow.

Forcing herself to keep her eyes open, she registered Octavia standing to her left, Bellamy to her right, and Raven and Jasper by her feet. The two of them had been chattering excitedly, but when Octavia switched on one of the battery-powered lamps and held it up to inspect her, they fell silent.

Clarke was confused for a moment, until she realized that they were all staring at her neck. Apparently, she was already starting to bruise.

Abruptly, Bellamy turned and punched the wall behind him, an act that made everyone jump and Clarke moan out in pain because the sudden booming sound was ringing in her head.

“Fuck!“

Clarke whimpered, Bellamy's curse uttered a little too loudly and too close for her aching head.

“Stop being so loud!“

He ignored her mewled protest. “He choked you?“

“You choked me once.“ That was Raven.

“Yeah, and you almost stabbed me. Besides, it didn't leave marks like this, did it?“

“Shut up! Clarke, apart from the choking, did he hit you? Bash your head against something? Because you're displaying symptoms of a concussion, aren't you?“

Octavia had started studying first aid from Clarke, and Clarke couldn't help but feel like a proud teacher. Octavia's precise questions seemed to help clear the fog in her head as she focused on pulling the medical knowledge needed from her memory.

“That's correct. I am displaying symptoms like headache, nausea, and sensitivity to light and noise.“ Clarke took the opportunity to throw a reproachful look at Bellamy. As she looked back at Octavia, she noticed Jasper surreptitiously picking up an empty canister and placing it on the table by her side. „Now, what you need to do is check my pupils...“

“I did that already,“ Bellamy interjected.

“Yes, but not correctly. You just sort of... gazed into my eyes.“ She giggled again, and Raven snorted. Jasper smiled, but Bellamy's expression remained determinedly grim.

“This is no joke, Clarke. Tell me how to do it correctly then.“

“Like I'd let you treat my injuries. Octavia, you need to hold the lamp to each of my eyes individually and check if my pupils are reacting to the light. They should constrict.“

Octavia did as instructed, the light triggering another burst of pain in her head, but after repeating the motion to make sure it had worked, she nodded with satisfaction. “They're reacting.“

A sigh of relief seemed to go through the hut.

“That's good right? But what about the symptoms?“

“They could just be due to me hitting my head and being punched and choked.“

Bellamy sucked in a loud breath, and she quickly covered his hand on the table with hers.

“Bellamy I swear if you yell or punch the wall again...“

He shook his head sheepishly, and she let her hand rest atop his, just in case. He didn't try to pull away.

“The most important fact is that I'm conscious and coherent. I know my name, date of birth, and where I am. I should be fine as long as I rest for at least a day and someone wakes me up and repeats these tests every few hours to make sure my condition is not getting worse.“

There was stunned silence for a few moments, then Jasper remarked: “I guess we know what happens if Clarke ever gets injured: She'll just diagnose and treat herself.“

Octavia laughed. “Some healer's assistant I am, making you do all the work. Is there anything else that needs checking? Did he hit you in your stomach?“

“No, he didn't, but smart move asking about that. If he had, I'd be at risk of internal bleeding. See, you're an excellent assistant.“

Octavia beamed with pride, but Raven looked at them as if they had gone mad.

“So, you're just transitioning into a medicine lesson now? Can't be that badly injured then. I'm heading back out. Monty should be done with his moonshine soon, and I'm guessing the fewer people are making a racket around here, the better.“ With that, she hooked her arm under Jasper's and steered him outside. By the door, she turned around and called back: “Octavia, you might want to get Clarke some water. Can't hurt with a head injury.“

Clarke could swear Raven looked at the other girl meaningfully, because after a moment, Octavia's face lightened as if understanding something. “Yes, excellent idea. I'll get some fresh water.“

“Could you also try and find the girl? She was bleeding, someone should take a look at her. And I want to know what exactly happened before I intervened.“

Octavia nodded at Clarke's request and hurried out after the others, and suddenly, Clarke was alone in the quiet little room with Bellamy looking down on her, silent and brooding.

“Why are you so serious? Didn't you hear the doctor say I'm fine?“ Clarke wondered if her lingering euphoria was a side effect of hitting her head, or if there was something else behind it, something that she found in his worried frown and the fact that his hand was still in hers.

“What happened in there, Clarke?“

“I thought that was obvious by now. I came in to find Teake beating that little girl, I still can't remember her name...“

“Janice.“

“Right, that was it. Well, he was beating Janice, so I stepped in and told him to stop, and then he turned on me. I told him it would be stupid of him to attack, that the camp would not tolerate this kind of violence, but apparently he decided to take the chance.“

“So he just lunged at you and tried to strangle you to death?“

“Well, I may have threatened to poison him...“

She felt his hand curl into a tight fist under hers.

“Why would you do that? Why the fuck didn't you run? Scream for help? Were you hoping a lecture from you would turn him around?“

“I couldn't leave the girl alone with him, or he would have done to her what he did to me. And she might not have had a thermos handy. I tried screaming, I'm not an idiot, but he grabbed me by the throat, and after that my voice was too damaged. Besides, he threatened me first.“

“What did he say?“

“Well, something about...“ she suddenly felt silly telling him that she had essentially tried to hide behind him like a child. „He said something along the lines of me having an 'accident' someday, so I said I might 'accidentally' give him some wrong medicine... And then he punched me.“

He pulled his hand out from under hers to push his hair back with an exasperated sigh.

“You know, for someone so smart you can be amazingly stupid.“

Clarke was starting to get annoyed. She was pretty sure he was just worried about her, and that was sweet, but it was not exactly helpful that he was expressing his worry by being, frankly, rather patronizing.

“So you're saying you would have backed down?“

“Of course not. But he doesn't have 50 pounds on me, does he now? I'd have a realistic chance of beating him in a fight.“

“But don't you see, beating him isn't the point! The moment we don't even try to stand up to people like him, they already win.“

“They also win when you're dead!“

His voice was rising to a roar again, and the pounding in her head increased. But she had to make him understand.

“Not if it means others will step up and try to stop him. Not if it sends a message. Besides,“ she added at the sight of his incredulous face, „I'm not dead.“

“No, you're not. But it could have been really, really close. Don't you realize that? Are you that determined to become a martyr?“

There was an expression on his face that she'd only seen a few times before, raw and desperate, and the moment he became aware of how much of him he was revealing, he turned his back on her, leaning on the edge of the table but determinedly looking away from her. Looking at the profile of his face, she could see a muscle twitching in his jaw, betraying his tension. For a few seconds, she was too dumbstruck to talk, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of emotion hanging between them.

Clarke had noticed of course that he had been keeping an eye on her – making sure to send guards along whenever she left camp, inquiring if there was anything she needed so he could send people out to get it, swinging by her hut in the evening on days they hadn't had a chance to talk just to catch up. She had tried to tell herself that it was just a natural side effect of their progressing friendship, a logical consequence of the hardships they had been through – surviving that first month and the grounder attacks, breaking 47 survivors out of Mount Weather to reunite with the Arkians, only to find that they could no longer bear to live under anyone else's rule, least of all that of the people who had sent them here to die. Their banishment from the Ark had not been forgotten, and so Clarke and Bellamy had put the call out to their comrades that they were building a new camp, starting over far away from the rule of the council, and many had followed. They had started out as leaders by accident and necessity, and had been legitimized by the decision of 39 of their friends to follow them, a number that neither of them had expected but that had humbled them.

After all of that, she figured it was understandable for them to be protective of each other. She was the same way, making sure he ate enough and seeing to the cuts and scrapes he brought back from his hunting trips. It was only natural to care about a friend's wellbeing, wasn't it? But she knew, and suspected he knew as well, that they were moving past that. His anger right now, her frantic worry whenever he returned late from an excursion, spoke of something bigger, but they had both avoided to address the topic so far – not least of all because she was getting panicked by the mere idea of caring about anyone again, after what happened with Finn, of anyone caring about her as he had, with similarly disastrous consequences. Her thoughts were interrupted when he stood up abruptly.

“I'll go check if Teake is conscious and ready to be interrogated.“

Clarke didn't want to be alone. The thought came to her so suddenly that she almost blurted it out, but she forced herself not to. She had shown enough weakness for one day. Nonetheless, he must have guessed from her expression.

“Octavia should be back with the water any second, she'll stay with you. Do those checks you mentioned. For now, you should just rest.“

His expression was stoic and contained again, all traces of distress gone, but his voice was soft and gentle and she was suddenly reminded of the kiss he had pressed to the top of her head when he carried her here. But maybe she had imagined that in her daze?

Sighing, she closed her eyes and listened to him cross the room and walk away, the door creaking shut behind him. She never even heard Octavia return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this story a while ago, before the end of Season 1, so it originally took place at the old camp and featured characterization that was overtaken by Season 2. I am trying to take the events of Season 2 into consideration, but they won't feature heavily - let's just assume this story takes place a long time after the events of the midseason finale.


	3. Crazy

The moment the door closed behind him, Bellamy could feel himself deflating like a balloon; what little composure he had managed to maintain crumbling to pieces. Making sure that no one was watching, he slipped around the edge of the hut for a moment of peace and quiet. Concealed from prying eyes, he leaned back against the wooden wall and took a few deep breaths, trying to get his racing heart to slow down.

He had been, and still was, very close to losing it. Somewhere between the sight of Clarke, lifeless on the floor of that tent, and the idea of her threatening a brutal psychopath to send a message about standing up to bullies, he had realized that he was completely and hopelessly in love with his co-leader – and that she would most likely drive him insane one of these days. Not since his sister had been discovered on the Ark had he felt as angry, scared and desperate as he had today. The idea of Clarke being scared, in pain and in mortal danger was enough to make him want to go on a rampage across the camp, to beat the living daylight out of her attacker with his bare hands.

And that was precisely why he was hiding here right now. If he faced Teake before he had got himself at least a little bit under control, he would commit murder this very afternoon, and he might not even feel sorry about it. The only reason he held back on his rage right now was that he knew Clarke would not approve, that she would want to stick to their few precious laws instead of carrying out their own justice. Not to mention, she had been made responsible for someone else's actions before, and the last thing he wanted was to make her think she had yet more blood on her hands. She had finally started to get over Finn's death, started breaking down the walls she had erected around her after what she had to do, and he didn't want to spook her.

So he waited until he had calmed down, until he no longer saw the imprint of her dark bruises behind his closed eyelids, no longer felt her hand hanging limply in his own, before he emerged from his hiding place and strode over to the gate. For Clarke's sake, he would abide by their law, but he would make damn sure she'd never have to see the face of her attacker again.

Grabbing a few ration packs and a water bottle, he instructed Miller to take over command of the camp and post a trustworthy guard outside the med bay before joining Monroe and Bartlett, who were watching dispassionately as Teake, who had come around by now, was alternately trying to wriggle out of his restraints and begging for the two of them to set him free. When he kneeled before the captive and pushed his knife forward, Bellamy registered the traces of blood on Teake's knuckles, blood that could very well be Clarke's. For a moment, he was tempted to plunge the knife in the boy's heart and be done with him. Instead, he cut off a strip of Teake's shirt and blindfolded him before untying the rope from the fence-post it had been slung around, leaving Teake with his hands still tied but able to stand up.

“Get up.“

The boy did as he was told, swaying on his feet for a moment.

Bellamy gave him a push between his shoulder blades. "Start walking.“

“Where are we going?“ That was Monroe.

“We're banishing him, and we're making damn sure he does't find his way back here.“

“What? But you haven't even asked me my side of the story.“ Digging his heels in, Teake steadfastly refused to walk.

“I've seen your side of the story. I've seen the bruises you've left on Clarke and Janice. But by all means, tell me what compelling reason you had to viciously attack two smaller, weaker girls.“

Clearly failing to detect the sarcasm in Bellamy's voice, the boy launched into a defense. “The little bitch was stealing from me. Clarke should have left bloody well alone.“

“Left you alone to do what? Kill her?“

“Of course not. I was only going to scare her a bit. Clarke just barged in and made a fuss.“

“So you decided to kill her instead.“ His voice was dangerously calm, and even the blockheaded idiot was catching on that he was not, in fact, about to get a second chance. He fell silent, and Bellamy found himself growing further enraged. On a whim, he ripped the blindfold off of Teake's head again and stuffed it in his pocket.

“You know what? Let's let everyone hear your side of the story. They should all be able to make up their own mind about what happened.“ With that, he started pushing the boy towards the central fire in the middle of the camp. “Monroe, tell everyone to gather by the fire and get Janice. We're having our first trial.“

***

Five minutes later, most of the remaining 100 – they still went by that name despite making up less than half the number – were gathered in a wide circle around them, minus a few hunters and, of course, Clarke and Octavia.

“I've called you here to be witness to our very first trial. Teake here has brutally attacked two of our own, unprovoked it seems, but he asked to be allowed to tell his side of the story. So I ask you to listen to him, listen to the girl he attacked, and make up your mind. But have no doubt“ that was directed at Teake but spoken loudly enough for everyone to hear, “you might get a jury to hear to you, but I'm still the judge.“

Teake blanched, but tried not to let his fear show as he started to talk, haltingly. “Well, the thing is... the girl... she stole from me. I saw her walking around with my knife, trying to hide it in her tent. I wasn't going to hurt her, I just figured she should get a lesson... you know, keep her hands off other people's stuff...“

“So what did you do to teach her that lesson?“ Bellamy forced himself to keep his voice steady. He was itching to just beat the boy up, dump him outside the camp somewhere and be done with the whole ugly business. But this was without a doubt a teaching experience for the rest of the group, impressing upon them that violence did not pay, and that they would not let a bully like Teake get away with attacking other people. The more people witnessed this lesson the better. After all, Clarke had been willing to stand up to the enormous boy on her own just to send a message, it was the least he could to do make sure that message got out. Teake was searching for the right words.

"I just... slapped her a bit. Just so she'd learn.“

“Alright then. Janice, would you come forward and tell us what you stole and how Teake responded?“

The girl stepped into the middle of the circle, shivering like a leaf, her face pale and drawn under the colourful bruises. Monroe was walking by her side, talking to her in a low voice and gently propelling her forward with her arm around her shoulder, making sure the girl was not too scared to speak.

“I didn't steal anything. I found his knife by the fire. There was no one around, and I was late for my gathering shift, so I just stashed the knife in my tent. I was going to say something about it at the next camp meeting.“

“Did you say so to Teake?“

“Yes, but he didn't believe me. He punched me, and then he kicked me and punched me again, I think...“

“Did you give him back his knife?“

“I wanted to, but he didn't let me get up.“ The girl was starting to cry again, and Monroe led her away from the circle and back towards the med bay, presumably so Octavia could give her something to help her calm down.

“Teake, did you punch Janice?“

“Like I said, she was stealing from me....“

“She said she wasn't. Did you ask her how she got the knife before you started beating her up?“

The boy hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

Someone in the crowd was on his side, however. “What if the girl was lying?“

“That is possible of course.“

“I think I saw her pick up the knife at the fireplace. I don't think she's lying.“ The boy who said that was normally very shy, and Bellamy wondered if Clarke had been right in her goal to teach the teens not to be afraid of bullies.

“There you have it. She was probably not lying, but you did not wait to find that out, did you? How many times did you say you hit her?“ He did not wait for Teake's reply before landing the first blow, quickly followed by a second. Not expecting the attack, the big guy went down after the third punch.

“And there was kicking too, wasn't there?“ Bellamy quickly followed up the statement with a swift kick into the boy's ribs. He registered the dread and fear sneaking onto many of the faces around him, but not everyone was intimidated.

“What about the second witness? You said there were two victims.“

“The second victim is Clarke, who's resting in medical after Teake here choked her 'til she passed out.“

“What does she have to do with it?“ another curious teen demanded.

“Tell them, Teake. Tell them why you attacked Clarke so viciously you almost gave her a concussion.“

“She just shouldn't have butted in. That was between me and the girl, and she tried to make it out like I was attacking people willy-nilly.“

Teake tried to get back to his feet, but Bellamy planted a foot on his chest to keep him down.

“So you told her that you suspected Janice was stealing from you?“

“I told her stay the fuck out, but she didn't get the message.“

The teens around them had gone quiet, every face turning serious and accusing. Teake, however, seemed unaware that public opinion was turning against him, frustrated as he was at being held down and interrogated.

“She just has to have her nose in everything because she thinks she's so much better than everyone else. She wanted to make a big deal out of it, get you involved and everything, even though it was between me and the girl. If the Princess had just kept her mouth shut, none of this would have happened.“

Behind him, Bellamy could hear Jasper murmur something that sounded like "big mistake“, but he stayed focused on his adversary. “I see. And since Clarke wanted to get other people involved in your businees, you decided to keep her quiet, right? What method did you use to do that again? Choking, was it?“

“That's what she says. You can't prove it.“

“Actually, the marks on her neck do prove it.“ And with a swiftness that caught the admittedly rather stupid boy off-guard, Bellamy pushed Teake down into the mud and straddled his chest, closing his hands around the thick neck. Unmoved by the sudden fear in the brute's eyes, he started squeezing and simultaneously pressing down on the boy's windpipe, watching with sick fascination as the delinquent who had spoken with such bravado right before now gulped in air unsuccessfully, his eyes bulging, his hands clawing weakly at Bellamy's arms. It was astonishing how easy it was to subdue someone of such enormous size simply by cutting off his air.

Teake's face was starting to turn blue when two pairs of hands pulled Bellamy backwards off his victim and a warning voice said in his ear: “That's enough!“

It took him a moment to tear his eyes away from the boy who was sputtering on the floor, gasping for air and holding his bruised neck. And yet, the only thing Bellamy could think as he remembered the purple bruises he had seen on Clarke's neck earlier, was _Good!_

Clearly, Miller was of a different opinion. “Bellamy, for fuck's sake, calm down! You're starting to look unhinged!“

“Yeah?“ To be honest, he was feeling a little unhinged. “Well maybe that will finally get those idiots to understand how fucking hard it is to keep them all alive without people running around trying to kill others, including OUR ONLY FUCKING DOCTOR!“ He yelled the last part for everyone to hear before lowering his voice again. “But I get what you're saying. Time to put an end to this.“

Drawing the knife from his belt, he took a step back towards the whimpering Teake, only for Jasper to hold him back by the arm. “Bellamy...“ Jasper's voice held a warning, but it was his glance back towards Clarke's hut that reminded Bellamy why he had to get it together.

Bellamy sheathed his knife again and was released. He walked over to Teake, who flinched away from him in terror, and pulled him to his feet, addressing him loudly enough for everyone on the clearing to hear.

“We've decided that we don't impose the death penalty, and I will hold to that. But from this day on, you're officially banished from this camp. If you return, you will be killed. Come on. I'll be nice enough to let you get your stuff before we leave.“

Teake followed without protest, followed by Jasper who kept his gun trained on him. After a quick detour to the boy's tent to let him get his jacket, flask and the sleeping mat he had woven for himself, they set off for the gate again, where Monroe was waiting for them. Before Bellamy could lead the way out, however, Jasper held him back.

“You don't need to come. Your plan is to blindfold him and lead him away from camp for a few hours, right? Monroe and I can take care of that. You just stay with Clarke until she gets better, alright?“

Bellamy wanted to protest, but he had to admit the thought of not having to look at Teake for another two hours was tempting. He nodded, and Jasper smiled.

“And maybe while you're there you could, you know... talk. You really did get a little unhinged just now.“ With that, Jasper set off, following Monroe and the blindfolded Teake out the gate.

Bellamy was left to stumble back to Clarke's hut, at the same time relieved to be able to go where all his thoughts were at the moment anyway, and scared of what he would find there. It felt like this afternoon had been a watershed, a dam broken, and whatever had come out could not be contained or hidden. And that was as scary as the sight of purple bruises on pale skin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually my least favourite part of the story. I hope I didn't turn Bellamy into a psychopath.


	4. Nauseating

There were still plenty of people standing on the clearing, and Bellamy forced himself to keep his head high and ignore their curious looks as he strode towards Clarke's hut. Had he really lost it so badly just then? The fear on many of the faces as they looked at him gave him his answer, and he quickened his pace, eager to get away from the stares.

Clarke was asleep when he entered, and Octavia was sitting next to Janice, who was clutching a metal cup of what smelled like chamomile infusion. She still looked shaky, her face pale under the colourful bruises.

He had wanted to talk to Clarke, but he did not want to disturb her, so he turned to the girl by her side.

“We've banished Teake. Jasper and Monroe are leading him far enough from camp that he won't find his way back.“ Janice nodded, but still seemed rather scared. "You were really brave today, speaking up like this.“ The young girl looked up at him with wide eyes, and finally, a small smile hushed over her face.

“Thank you.“ Handing the cup back to Octavia, Janice stood up. “I think I'll lie down for a bit.“

Octavia smiled kindly. “Sure. Come back if you need some more arnica for the bruises, alright?“

The girl nodded and walked out, and Bellamy sat down next to his sister, taking the half-empty cup of lukewarm tea and downing it in one gulp. If anyone could use some calming infusion, it was him.

“She'll be fine, won't she?“

“Yes. The bruises will heal, and her nose was bleeding a bit but it's not broken. She's a little shaken up though, so I suggested she move in with me and Lincoln for now. Did you know she was all alone in that little tent by the fence? I think we need to keep a closer eye on the younger ones.“

He suddenly felt exhausted. Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes.

“We'll think about that later.“ Opening his eyes again, he looked over at Clarke, a burst of affection shooting painfully through him at the sight of her still form. “What about her?“

“She'll be fine. She's been sleeping, but her breathing is stable. I'll wake her in about an hour, like she suggested.“

They were both silent for a few moments, before Octavia asked:

“What about you?“

“What about me?“

She rolled her eyes. “Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You were really upset about Clarke getting hurt.“

'Really upset', 'unhinged' – that was the second person today who had suggested that he was not dealing with the situation very well. Was he that transparent? And if he was, would Clarke have seen it too? And would that be a good or a bad thing?

Too many questions, he thought as he closed his eyes again.

“Can I just stay here for a bit? This has been one hell of a weird day so far.“

It was cowardly to be this evasive to his own sister, but before he had got his feelings under control, there was really no point in discussing them with others.

There was silence for a moment, which probably meant Octavia was gearing up for a speech. To his surprise, however, he could feel her ruffling his hair affectionately.

“Don't worry, big brother, you'll figure it out. I'll tell Miller not to let anyone in here.“

He listened to her footsteps walking away, then there was silence except for Clarke's soft breathing. _Finally_ , he thought. Breathing in and out slowly and purposefully, the way he had seen Clarke do it when she had to focus on a particularly complicated medical problem, he noticed with relief that his pulse was slowing down, his mind slowly going blank.

He must have dozed off, because he was woken up when someone took hold of his hands. Jerking upright, he drew them back, almost slapping the other person in the process before realizing it was Clarke kneeling before him. He was about to reproach her for getting off the table on her own, but she snatched back his hands to examine his bruised knuckles.

“What happened?“

“What do you think?“ She cocked her head and looked at him reproachfully. “I gave Teake a taste of his own medicine.“

“Bellamy...“

He clambered to his feet and helped her get up, leading her back to lean against the operating table as he explained: “Relax, Princess, it was all perfectly civilized. I had everyone gather outside. I let Janice tell her side of the story and allowed Teake to defend himself. And then I did to him exactly what he did to you and Janice, down to the last punch.“

He motioned for her to get back on the table, but she ignored him and remained standing, facing off against him.

“Did you kill him?“

“No. I banished him, just like we decided we'd do with people like him. It's not like we have a lot of laws, so this one is easy to remember.“

She didn't exactly smile at his little joke, but she looked relieved. He, in turn, was getting irritated. How could she be so quick to forgive her attacker, to defend him even?

“Why do you care if he lives or dies?“

“I don't care one bit about his life. But I care about you not having to kill anyone unless absolutely necessary.“

“Why?“

“Because I don't ever want to hear you call yourself a monster again.“

Maybe he should be called a monster, he thought as he suddently remembered the blind rage that had guided the punches he had directed at a person tied up and unable to defend himself, the dizzying power of holding another human's life in his hands. He had not enjoyed the other person's pain, no, but he had been all too willing to follow other base instincts – lust for revenge, anger, guilt at his failure to protect that channelled itself into violence.

Nausea swept over him and he leaned heavily onto the table, his head hanging limply between his shoulders as his arms kept him from crashing forward. There was silence except for the sound of his erratic breathing, and he was fighting the urge to vomit. Then a cool hand placed something wet and cold on the back of his neck. He flinched in surprise and groaned as the cold immediately eased some of the pressure in his head.

Clarke stood beside him, holding the wet rag in place with one hand and placing the other on his arm, steadying and calming him at the same time. Gradually, the nausea passed, but the anger and guilt did not. On the contrary, now that he was starting to feel better, Bellamy realized how wrong it was for Clarke to have to console and care for him when she was the one who was injured. Shaking off her hands, he straightened and, with one quick motion, grabbed her waist and lifted her back onto the table. She yelped in surprise.

“Lie back down. You need to rest. I'll make sure everyone is back to doing what they should.“

He had almost turned to the door when her voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Stay.... Please.“

Had she ever said 'Please' to him before? Maybe they _should_ try asking nicely more often. It certainly worked on him, he thought as he turned around slowly.

“I really have to...“ He trailed off, knowing there was nothing urgent for him to do right now.

“You want me to get better, don't you?“

“Are you blackmailing me?“

“Only because you keep running off.“

He couldn't quite suppress the half-smile that stole onto his face at her mischievous expression and he sighed and walked back over to the table, sitting on an upturned crate and facing her.

“All right, I'm staying. But only if you rest.“

“Deal.“

Clarke smiled at him before she laid back down, this time settling in on her side with her head cradled on her arms, watching him silently for a few moments. She looked impossibly beautiful – bruises, pale skin, split lip and all.

“Are you still mad at me?“

“I was never mad at you.“

“You seemed pretty mad before.“

“But not at you.“ He couldn't believe she would actually think that. Had he been so 'unhinged' before that she thought he blamed her for the incident? “I was mad at Teake, mad at the world for allowing assholes like him to thrive, mad at the council for being so ignorant that we preferred to fend for ourselves. I'm mad that you were in danger, that someone tried to hurt you...“ He paused before giving himself the necessary push. “I'm mad at myself for not protecting you.“

“Bellamy...“

He knew what she would say: It wasn't his fault. He couldn't be expected to be by her side at all times, and anyway, she could take care of herself. He couldn't protect everyone from everything. He knew she would say that because they'd had this conversation before, repeated it every time somone got hurt and he blamed himself. But this time, it was _Clarke_ who had nearly died, and things were suddenly very different.

He cut her off by blurting out: “I think I'm in love with you.“

For several long moments, there was silence as she stared at him, eyes wide. Then she sat up abruptly and opened her mouth as if to say something, only to let out a croaking sound, bend over, and vomit into the strategically placed bucket beside her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I could not find a satisfying ending for this story, so I split the current chapter and decided to think about it some more and post the part I already wrote and liked.  
> The chapter titles were supposed to spell out 'Fearless Stupid Crazy Love', but since I added a chapter, I had to come up with another descriptor that fit... so here we are.


	5. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pretty out of this story for a while (the AU-bug got me), but I didn't want to leave it unfinished.

 

_“I think I'm in love with you.“_

_For several long moments, there was silence as she stared at him, eyes wide. Then she sat up abruptly and opened her mouth as if to say something, only to let out a croaking sound, bend over, and vomit into the strategically placed bucket beside her._

Octavia chose this moment to return, presumably to check up on Clarke, and hastened to her side while he was still frozen in place.

“What the hell did you do to her?”

Bellamy couldn't very well tell her the truth, and Clarke, still staring blearily into the bucket and trying to catch her breath, was no help either. So he did something he was sure he'd later despise himself for: He fled.

Thankfully, no one asked any questions when they saw him emerging from Clarke's hut with what must have been a rather deranged look on his face – after today, everyone in camp was propably too scared to even approach him. Everyone, that was, except for Miller, who fearlessly fell into step with Bellamy and informed him that a part of the wall at the far end of the camp had collapsed and needed to be reinforced. Miller didn't mention Clarke or his apparent descent into insanity, but Bellamy recognized the offer behind the information: to get away from everyone for a while and lose himself in the kind of hard physical labour that was best suited to clearing one's mind.

And that was exactly what he did, throwing himself into chopping down trees and ramming them into the ground, and after a while, he really could feel the muddle in his head clearing up. After all, what really had happened today? Clarke had been attacked, yes, but she'd survived with only minor injuries and would be fine with a bit of rest. Her attacker had been banished, and no one in camp would ever dare to go after her again, of that he was sure. As for his badly timed declaration...

He winced as the scene replayed in his head. Was there anything more mortifying than a confession of love that was met with the other person literally throwing up? He doubted it. Sure, he rationalized, the vomiting was most likely due to the fact that she sat up too quickly and got nauseous. Which only meant that he had been an idiot to spring this on her when she was not exactly in the best of health. But that still left the fact that she did sit up abruptly, clearly shocked by his words, and he wondered if they had really been that surprising. After all, hadn't something like this been brewing between them for a while now? Their talks had been getting more and more personal over the past months, their little reassuring touches more frequent and intimate, their shared glances and occasional smiles longer, their connection deeper. Today's events had merely been a catalyst for something that had grown inside him for a long time, and he had hoped that maybe she felt the same way.

Apparently not, he thought, and was glad when Miller and one of the other helpers brought over a fresh log for him to chop up, attacking the poor tree with a ferociousness that made his fellow builders take a collective step backwards just to be safe. Bellamy didn't care. He just kept chopping.

Three hours later, the damaged section of the wall was repaired. Bellamy's entire body was aching and he was sweaty and exhausted, but at least he felt that he had got himself somewhat under control again – maybe even enough to look in on Clarke, see if she was over her shock yet...

He didn't know what he expected when he entered her hut (after a quick stop by the creek, mandated by Miller because apparently, he was “covered in mud and smelling like an animal”). Clarke could be angry or confused, she could be completely done dealing with the situation and act like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Hell, she could be sleeping.

What he did not expect was for her to be gone. After today's all-too-real prospect of losing Clarke, not finding her where she was supposed to be was a little too much, and Bellamy found himself panicking, almost ripping the door off its hinges when he dashed out again in search of Clarke.

He didn't get far, colliding with his sister in the doorway instead.

“So, I take it you're done sulking?”

“I wasn't sulking.”

“Let me guess: You spent the afternoon repeatedly banging your head against the nearest, thickest tree. At least, that's what I would do in your situation.”

Octavia's smug tone and even smugger smile could only mean one thing... “She told you?!”

“Well, it took some coaxing... but not much. The poor girl was traumatized, she needed someone to talk to.”

 _Traumatized_? This day just kept getting more and more terrible.

“I'm kidding. Mostly. She wasn't horrified or anything, just a little overwhelmed.”

Sagging with relief, Bellamy leaned back against the table. Apparently, he had not completely blown it. He took a few deep breaths before noticing that Octavia was looking at him expectantly.

“So, you might want to go talk to her.”

“Right. Yes. Talk.”

He got up and started walking to the door, only stopping at the last moment when something occurred to him. But before he could turn around and ask, Octavia already dryly said:

“She went to get some mint from the garden.”

Now informed about Clarke's whereabouts, Bellamy finally did leave, but he could swear he heard Octavia mutter “idiot” under her breath.

Forcing himself not to break into a run and needlessly alarming everyone around, Bellamy headed out the gate and towards the small clearing close to the camp that had been dubbed "The Garden" because they had found an abundance of useful herbs and flowers there, and Clarke and Monty had started cultivating them in greater numbers in flowerbeds built for this purpose. It was a place that was beautiful as much as functional, and it made sense that she'd go there to think, but that didn't make Bellamy any less irritated with her for going outside the gate alone and injured.

He found her immediately upon entering the small clearing, sitting on the soft moss with her back against the trunk of a big old tree. She was staring into space and ripping apart the leaves of a plant that he really hoped didn't have medicinal use, because she'd only get angry at herself later if she noticed she was wasting resources.

“How are you doing?”

As lost in her thoughts as Clarke had appeared, she was not at all startled by his address, and the thought that the trauma of the day had still not made her scared of anything was reassuring.

“Pretty good. I finally got the taste of vomit out of my mouth once I remembered that we have mint leaves to chew on.” She held out her hand, showing him one of the leaves she had been picking apart.

“That's good.” It occurred to him now that, for all his eagerness to talk to her, he hadn't really thought about what he wanted to say. “I'm sorry I made you throw up.”

She laughed softly. “You didn't make me throw up, Bellamy. If anything, I made myself throw up by sitting up so abruptly.”

“Which I startled you into...”

He expected her to protest, to tell him to stop blaming himself for everything, but she remained quiet for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. “It shouldn't have been that startling, should it?”

That surprised him – he honestly thought she had no idea of his true feelings. Then again, subtlety had never been his strong suit. “Maybe not.”

“I guess this has been a long time coming then.”

“I guess it has.” He swallowed hard, suddenly nervous, but pushed himself to continue. “You haven't by any chance formed an opinion yet?”

She sighed. “I've been thinking about it all afternoon. The thing is... I've been thinking of saying something myself, about us. About what we are, and what we could be...” Her words made his heart beat faster, but he forced himself not to get his hopes up. “But this isn't just about you and me, Bellamy. If we were to... and if it went wrong... That would affect the entire camp. We've been working together so well. And just look at what happened today – I got injured and you almost killed a guy. And to be honest...” She paused, looking down at the shredded mint leaf in her hand, “if the situation had been reversed, I might have reacted the same way.”

That should probably not make him as happy as he was feeling right now, so Bellamy forced himself to remain calm and focus on the other concern that was holding her back.

“I get that. I know how important it is for us to work together, and work together well. But the way I see it, concern for the group shouldn't keep you from making decisions like this based on how _you_ feel. You carry a lot of responsibility, but some things... some things should be about just you. Not you and me, but just you.”

“Bellamy...”

It always got to him when she said his name, but when she sighed it now, confusion clearly evident in the unnatural thinness of her normally so certain voice, he yearned to close the distance between them and take her in his arms, not sure if he wanted to comfort or convince her. But that was not what he had come here for, he reminded himself.

“I'm not going to try and pressure you. I just want you, for once, to think about what _you_ want, and nothing and no one else. If you say you don't feel the same way, I'll never mention it again, and things will continue as they have. If you say you're not sure, I'll give you all the time you need to figure it out. But if you think there's a chance...” He swallowed hard, cursing himself for being so terrified. He had faced grounder warfare, acid fog, dangerous beasts and a deadly virus. He would not be brought to his knees by this. “Just say the word, Princess.”

She tensed abruptly, and he was about to ask what was wrong when she fixed him with a pensive look.

“That was his last word, did I ever tell you? When I plunged that knife into Finn, the last thing he said was 'Thanks Princess'.”

Bellamy felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. He had known Finn would come up eventually, but he had not expected this, had not intended for anything he said to open up that old wound again.

“Fuck, I'm sorry, Clarke. I had no idea. I never would have kept calling you that if I knew...”

“I don't mind. That's the thing, I never minded you calling me that, even after he died. That should tell me all I need to know, shouldn't it? Finn, and what I had to do to him – that will stay with me forever. But that doesn't mean there can't be a place for someone else.”

And just like that, his emotions soared again – from fear and dejection to a hope so powerful it felt like one of earth's infamous thunderstorms was raging in his chest.

Clarke was apparently unaware of his inner turmoil, because she got to her feet and walked up to him, frowning the way she did when she was trying to figure something out. It was unnerving and captivating at the same time, he thought as she came to a stop less than an arm's length away from him, standing so close she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

“So if that's not the problem, there's really only one thing left to find out...”

And before he understood what she was getting at, Clarke had leaned up to kiss him, softly and tentatively, steadying herself by putting her hands on his shoulder. She tasted of mint, and it took all his willpower not to grab her waist and crush her against him. But this was her move, and he wanted to see where she'd take it.

She took it slow, almost painfully so, letting her lips linger so lightly over his for several long moments that he thought he'd go crazy if she didn't give him more soon. She did, eventually, gradually increasing the pressure until he had to grab her arms to have something to hold on to, because this – this was more than he could have ever imagined. She was focused on him like he was a fascinating new creature she'd discovered on this planet, her hands sliding up from his shoulders and into his hair, her cold fingertips on his scalp sending a shock right through him, and he longed to do the same, to bury his hands in that glorious hair, use it to tilt her head back and _really_ kiss her, to let his hands slide down from her arms and pull her up against him instead of having her standing just far enough away that her breasts barely brushed against his chest.

He was more than tempted to pin her against the nearest tree and never let her leave this garden again, but the memory of her on the floor of that tent this morning, pale and bruised, reminded him that now was not the best time to unleash the full force of months of pent-up longing. So he held himself back, only giving as much as she demanded and leaving his hands on the relatively safe level of her upper arms. It was gloriously maddening, and he didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when she pulled back.

The bemused smile on her face at least partly soothed his disappointment.

“Yes, just as I thought.” She was out of breath, her voice an odd mixture of surprise and triumph.

“So you thought about kissing me, hm?” Her embarrassed laugh and the way she hid her head in the folds of his jacket, so uncharacteristically shy, only made him enjoy the situation more. “Maybe you should repeat the experiment. Just to make sure your findings are scientifically sound.”

She lifted her head to look at him again, all traces of shyness gone when she grinned and licked her lips.

“Maybe I should.”

And then it was her pinning him against a tree, and neither of them returned to camp for a very long time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's cheesy and overused, but I will never stop having Bellamy call Clarke princess. Nevar!! (Although I agree with the opinion that it should be used very sparingly in canon fics, precisely because of Finn.)


End file.
